I’m reading this book…

I don’t know what I’m doing.

I’m currently reading a book. It’s not out yet. It’s a new edition of a book. And I was asked to write the foreword for the new Philippine edition of this manuscript. So I can’t mention the book.

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Not the book I’m reading, of course, but just a shot of me reading back in 2016

But reading this book made me think about some old connections I had made in the past. Romantic in nature. I haven’t spoken to them in a long time. A very long time.

I am beginning to recognize this horrible pattern that I have of going back to these lost relationships I’ve had and trying to fix them. I’m not trying to fix the people, I’m trying to fix the relationship. Always wondering if time has made us into the people that can make things work out.

I just caught myself there.

I was going to write, “…if time has made us into the people that can be friends.” But that would have been a lie. Maybe, deep inside, it’s me trying to fix things to see if I can make it work out between us. Romantically speaking.

I’m a hopeless romantic. Or as I’ve said many times, “hopeless, romantic.” The comma is everything.

Hopeless. Romatic.

I want to slap myself in the face several times until I’m numb. At this point in my life, I’ve come to the realization that I won’t be able to get with anyone. I’m filling my days with work, falling in love with teaching and turning that into my most important relationship, and just throwing away any hopes for a relationship.

I’m just too complicated and I have too much baggage. No one new is coming along that I can believe can handle me, all of me, at this point in my life. And I kept telling myself that I’m okay with it.

But. Hopeless. Romantic.

And it makes sense that I would go back to old flames because they knew me when and there was something there, so many years ago. I have matured a lot and I’ve grown so much and if there’s still the connection there, maybe now that we are older, hopefully wiser, maybe it would be better now than it was then.

It makes sense.

But it’s stupid. Caught myself again.

And all because of a book. I’m happy to be reading again. I haven’t read fiction in such a long time. I should get back to it again soon when my life settles down.

I just remember not to get carried away with what I’m reading. I get carried away too easily.

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